


And So Live Ever - Or Else Swoon To Death

by coloursflyaway



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: Savannah offers warm, dark nights to lovers; Thomas’ words offer comfort to James.





	And So Live Ever - Or Else Swoon To Death

It cannot be true, and yet it seems to James like the stars shine brighter here than they did at sea. The sky surrounding them used to look yearning, a darkness all-encompassing, impenetrable, but now, surrounded by the dry heat Savannah has to offer, it looks more like velvet to his tired eyes, something comfortable, to be loved and not feared.  
It fits and yet doesn't, because it's only been a few, short weeks since he arrived here and the wounds in his chest, in his head, his mind have not yet fully healed - he couldn't say if they ever will, either, doubts it, because ten years are ten years are ten years, far longer than all the time he ever spent truly happy, added together. And yet, it fits too, because that decade, those ten years, have been storm and war and nothing but, and yet James, when he turns his attention inwards, looks at that wounded, scarred heart of his, sees peace seeping from the cuts and bruises, a love that has regained the glow, the warmth, the gentleness it should never have lost.

It's not just one kind of love, it's all of them wrapped together: the familiarity of friends, the lust between lovers, the devotion that connects two halves of one soul. It's pure, it's fierce, it's flawless in the intensity it burns with; it's the only kind of love Thomas could ever deserve.

It's the thought of that name, one so mundane and yet so dear to him, which makes James look over at the man beside him, blonde hair longer, paler than it used to be, the beard concealing the contours of Thomas' jaw, his blue eyes fixed on the sky above them.  
Of all his features, it was Thomas' eyes which haunted him the most, wouldn't let him sleep more often than not in those first years, because it was his eyes that let James know that the love he held, holds, will hold, for the other man was requited.  
Not the lips he pressed against James' that night at the dinner table, not the hand on his shoulder, so close to touching skin, it was Thomas' eyes shining brighter from within than from the candlelight, telling James that he could have this. And it was Thomas' eyes that kept reminding him during meetings, on the streets, even that last, wonderful, terrible time they saw each other before being separated, which told  James that he had been missed just as much as he had missed in return.

They are not on him now, but they don't have to be; they didn't have the time to do a lot of things yet, but the one thing it had only taken a second to confirm was that those blue eyes still held the same kind of love hidden in their depths.  
"I almost burnt down the world for you", he tells Thomas, although the other shouldn't have to hear it. "I would have, if John hadn't... I would have. I would have died somewhere along the way, I know that, but I wouldn't have stopped until then, ripping and clawing and tearing my way through the British Empire, just for the memory of you."

There is a pause, the wind gently stroking through the grass around them, making it whisper, the stars above them shining so brightly James feels like he could stretch out a hand and touch them, and then Thomas shifts, and mutters, "I know."  
It's more of an exhale than an answer, a single breath carrying the words through the warm night air, and yet it's enough, it's too much. There are no tears welling up in his eyes, because James wouldn't allow himself to spoil a night as peaceful as this by crying, but it's a close thing.

"That's the power you have over me", he says, knows his voice sounds brittle, because it is a different thing to know this and another one altogether to speak it out-loud. "Point me in any direction, say what you wish of me to do, and I will. I haven't taken orders from anyone in a decade, but Thomas, by God, say one word, and you can have whatever you want from me."

Finally, movement, Thomas turning his head and looking back at him, blue eyes painted black by the dim light.  
"Does it scare you?", the other asks, his voice still the same even if they are not, the voice of the man who asked James a million questions in a study in London, in a bed hidden away from prying eyes. There is no judgement hidden in that voice, and James knows that Thomas wouldn’t hold it against him if he was, and yet knowing that makes answering even harder.

“No”, he says at last, truthfully, and feels Thomas’ gaze on him like a physical touch, blue eyes raking over his features, the hair that is slowly growing back, the deep lines sea and sun and time have carved into his face. It would be better to be afraid, James knows that, because one mind commanding two hearts has always been twice as dangerous. But this is Thomas, who he trusts with more than his life, with his strength and his determination and the darkness he carries within; it is Thomas, the one man James is certain he can trust with what is left of Captain Flint.

Beside him, Thomas reaches out and laces their hands together, a soft, gentle touch from calloused fingers, which lights James’ skin on fire nonetheless.  
“Why?”, Thomas asks, and the word is a caress; he shifts closer, and even after all this time, James’ breath hitches in his throat.  
“Because you couldn’t ever scare me”, he replies, and that, too, is the truth. “Because I would rather have you command my every step than me. Because I might have been young and idealistic once, but I know that if you ever happened to stand on the wrong side, for whatever reason, I would rather die next to you, knowing so, than live on the other.”

There is a soft kind of light shining in Thomas’ eyes, a gentleness James has never seen in anyone else, half a smile on his lips, like he knows that it is not all James wants to say. It isn’t.  
Still, he takes his time, just watches Thomas for a few more, long moments, takes in the shape of his face, the crinkles around his eyes, the colour of his hair, because he never again wants to forget a single thing about the other.

“Then what does scare you?”, Thomas asks, after the silence has stretched for too long, brushes the pad of his thumb across James’ knuckles. “Because something does, my love, I know it does.”  
A simple term of endearment and yet it takes James’ breath away, makes his heart swell until it is too big for his chest, his skin.

“ _I_ do.” Another truth, a simpler one, an absolute one. One he has known for a decade, one he won’t ever forget; it’s not Thomas, who scares him, it’s not the devotion, the love, how far he would go for the other, it’s him. “I scare myself, not when I am with you, but because I know what I can do, what I will do, without you. I’ve seen it happen once, I don’t know if I can go through it again.”  
There are still no tears, just Thomas’ hand in his, Thomas’ eyes on him, and it’s enough.  
The grass around them whispers eternal secrets, and somewhere beyond the horizon, the sea sings to him, yet James lies here and strains to hear each breath the man beside him takes, every beat of his heart.

“Then don’t.” The words fall from Thomas’ lips like gravel, like it hurt to force them past his vocal chords, and James understands; they would slice him apart from within as well.  
“You cannot promise that it won’t happen once more”, James tells him gently, turns to his side, so he use his free hand to card through Thomas’ hair, softly, as if the other was made from fine china. “No one can.”

Thomas laughs mirthlessly, even if his eyes twinkle, and James wants to kiss the sound off his lips, like he has done so often before.  
“I can’t promise that you won’t ever lose me again, that much is true. But James, my dearest, truest love, if what you said was true, if I hold that much power over you, then I can promise you something else entirely.  Then I can promise you that I will die not in battle, but in peace, of old age, or sickness, or exhaustion, with you at my side, holding my hands. With no need to be revenged, no plans to carry out, nothing but a simple wish: For you to find peace.”

He says it simply, plainly, and James believes him; maybe that is what makes it so hard. A world without Thomas was almost unbearable before, with rage and bloodlust and determination letting him run on their fumes, but the world the other described he wouldn’t possibly be able to endure.  
“It would be my certain death”, he tells Thomas, and watches sadness cloud the other’s eyes, trying but not quite succeeding in extinguishing the flame burning within.  
“I know.”

It feels like a verdict spoken, but not carried out, and a moment passes, then James feels the effect. A weight falls off him, freeing his heart from the last of its cages, his mind from the last painful barriers, because sometimes, death can be a gift.  
Thomas Hamilton will die one day, a second time, but knowing that no matter what, James McGraw will not have to survive him, brings some relief at least.

He presses closer, because they are not dead yet, because he needs to feel Thomas’ heart beating steadily in his chest, and the sadness doesn’t quite leave the other’s eyes, but pales beside the love shining out of them again.  
The hand James had in his hand travels to Thomas’ cheek, fingertips just so brushing across the skin above his greying beard.  
“Thank you”, he whispers, and knows that even in this heat, Thomas will feel his breath washing over his skin. “For granting me this.”  
“There is nothing I wouldn’t.”

He leans in, or maybe both of them do; they seal it with a kiss, and there is yet another truth, hidden in that touch of lips against lips, of one heart beating in two chests: every second Thomas Hamilton is alive will be worth the agony of losing him tenfold.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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